


Polarised

by Plugs



Series: Not glass, nor shattered [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plugs/pseuds/Plugs
Summary: “I calculate a 86% chance you are here to assassinate me,” Prowl said. He looked at the wall opposite. “as directly ordered by Optimus Prime.”“That tac-unit never was good at guessing my plans,” Jazz said.
Series: Not glass, nor shattered [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050536
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Polarised

**Author's Note:**

> As I have realised that this fic and Drones are part of the same universe, it has undergone some edits to reflect that. Which means this story and the universe it is in will be continuing.

Prowl only saw the mech on the edge of his vision because he wanted to be seen.

But Prowl continued his routine. He put his datapad on the desk, poured a of energon from the dispenser and then placed it on the side table. He settled into his chair because he calculated that siting nor standing would make any tactical difference in the end.

“No cube for me huh?”

Prowl sighed, got up, and poured another cube. Then flopped back into his chair. He flexed stiff aching door wings that could barely detect the other mech.

The mech dropped from the ceiling. “I’m guessing its been a busy day?” he said, leaning against the table.

“Being the Decepticon’s head tactical officer is always a busy day Jazz.” Prowl looked at the cube and decided better of drinking it.

“...Prowl I’m not here to kill anyone.” Jazz picked up his cube and took a deep draft. “—damn that’s good stuff, I’m guessing geothermal?”

“Yet I calculate a 86% chance you are here to assassinate me,” Prowl said. He looked at the wall opposite. “as directly ordered by Optimus Prime.”

“Y’know that tac-unit never was good at guessing my plans.” Jazz finished off the rest of his cube.

“It also calculated a 14% chance that you wished to converse with me.” Prowl frowned. “I am unsure why—I am loyal to the cause and Megatron, I will not reveal any information.”

Jazz‘s expression changed. “Think that’s where us bots went wrong, we were loyal to a mech before what we believed in.” he turned the empty cube in his servo. “‘freedom is the right of all sentient beings’—empty words Prowler.”

Prowl tilted his helm. “...I am having difficulty understanding your meaning.” Prowl looked at the floor. “But I recognise the importance of abstract imprecise expression to you, even vorns after we parted ways.”

Jazz laughed, “After all these vorns eh? but I know I’ve got tell you without my little abstractions.”

He pulled over another one of Prowl’s chairs and sat in it backwards. Jazz’s inability use seats correctly had always been amusing. Prowl had to dismiss his memory files of their time as amica. His spark missed Jazz’s presence, but that bond had been broken long ago.

“I wanna defect.”

“What?” Prowl looked in Jazz’s direction. “That was...unexpected.” Prowl knew it was true. Jazz never used fabrication—confusing metaphors and convenient omission of certain facts perhaps—but never outright lies. But Prowl needed more to calculate Jazz’s motivations for such a statement.

“Optimus.” Jazz sighed and continued to fiddle with the cube. “Optimus isn’t the mech I though he was. Don’t know if it was coming to earth or he was always like this. Prime’s behaviour puts us all in danger—he’s ignoring that the humans ain’t all innocent sparklings. I’ve seen they’re making weapons to take us out regardless of being ‘cons or ‘bots.”

Prowl nodded. “I agree, however such behaviour is something I am aware of. Alone it is unlikely a reason for defection.”

Jazz nodded. “yeah, there’s more. No idea if you’ve worked it out but...” Jazz took a vent.“first it was Skyfire leaving. Not because he kept getting used as transport, but because mecha saw him as their transport and a scientist second. Frag a cybertronian second—Optimus didn’t even notice, or care.”

“I am perceiving there is more?” Prowl looked over at Jazz. He was curled up on the chair now. “If...you do not wish to explain I will accept it, but I cannot risk—“

“—Letting me run around the Nemisis. I know you’ll have to call Sounders on me. I’d do the same.” Jazz curled up tighter. But I need to tell you because you’ll understand how bad this is.”

Prowl’s wings tilted. “I am ready to listen.”

Jazz didn’t speak for a while. “...slag,” he whispered.

“Jazz?”

“... _torture_ , not interrogation, fragging _torture_.” Jazz rubbed his visor with a servo. “I didn’t...I couldn’t.” he took a shuddering vent. “Don’t let any more mechs get captured.”

Soundwave arrived moments later once commed. Prowl watched as Jazz was cuffed and removed from the room. The door closed, leaving him alone in the empty office.

Prowl’s faceplate was wet. 

* * *

Jazz had been in the Decepticon brig before and it wasn’t a ‘dripping rusting hole’ like Cliffjumper boasted. The brig was grey rather than the typical Victory purple but brightly lit. Jazz had a decent berth, a datapad with a novel on and a cube dispenser.

When he’d arrived Jazz had to give up all his weapons. Rumble and Frenzy’s faceplates as he’d produced yet more knives, explosives and guns had been hilarious. Soundwave had been as unreadable as ever of course.

Jazz smiled and flopped down on the berth. “Always good to find a bright spot in times like this,” he whispered to himself. He could almost pretend he was back in his berth at the Arc—no. He didn’t want to be there. He _never_ wanted to be there again.

“Jazz?” A voice called out. “Is that you?”

“Sideswipe?” Jazz said. “Yeah...its me.”

“Primus, you’ve been missing for weeks. Thought you were dead,” Sideswipe replied.

“Don’t tell me the Constructicon’s brought you here too,” another mech spoke up. “Don’t think I’d be able to respect you if they handed you aft to you.” Jazz knew that voice had to be Sunstreaker.

“Nah, I don’t go down that easy—sounds like you two do though.”

“Careful, just because you’re our fr—commanding officer doesn’t mean we’ll take slag off you,” Sideswipe mock growled. “So what are you in here for?”

Jazz vented. “Sorry, been a long day mechs. Much as I’d love to tell you the exciting tale of my capture I get the feeling Decepticon high command is gonna be grilling my aft tomorrow. I’m gonna need the shut eye.”

“But Jazz—“ Sideswipe began.

“—Leave it Side’s. He doesn’t wanna talk to us,” Sunstreaker interrupted.

Jazz wanted to talk. He wanted to scream. There was so much he’d seen and done. It hurt to keep his mouth closed and helm aching with everything burned into his mind. 

How could he tell Sunstreaker and Sideswipe he’d defected because of the things he’d seen them do?

**Author's Note:**

> Prowl’s alt is still a Datsun Fairlady Z, but he isn’t painted like a police car in this fic. So his paint job looks something like the below link,
> 
> https://automobile-spec.com/cars/nissan-1455.jpeg


End file.
